But it’s not Merrick who answers.
Chapter sixteen
Selene
“The Shift.” The words sound like ice, even as they burn my throat like the flames Merrick controls so effortlessly. “That’s what you call it, I believe.”
Another flame appears, blocking my view of Leo and Callan. But there is no maegis in this. This flame weaves and flickers like any other. Merrick’s hands tremble as he sets the flint down. “Yes.”
My wrist is bleeding, my nails bloodied from the scratching. Clamping my hand over it, I get to my feet. “You’re a talented storyteller, Merrick.”
This could have been another hearth.
A life I left behind ten years ago, lingering on the edges of a familiar crowd and listening to stories of lands I would never visit. I can see Jonas and his family. I can see Leesa, his daughter, in the corner of my eye. She had been shy, and sweet, one sticky hand gripping my skirt and the other holding a honeyed cake that I had snuck out from the kitchens to giveto her. I can see his son, Emryn, in the childish curves of Leo’s face. In his wide, excited eyes, in his breathless anticipation for another tale as he pleads for more.
As he pleaded for the Caelumnai to spare his father’s life, for his mother to wake up, even as I ran past like a coward and my feet slid in Ria’s blood.
I can see them all. Like ghosts, lingering in the air around us. As if they’re listening too.
And it hurts. It hurts so much that I need to leave before I allow any of them to see it.
Merrick inclines his head. “Asteria taught me well.”
I should leave.Should—
“My home was not cold.”
The words tear from my throat like tossed knives. Merrick flinches. “Forgive me. I did not intend to suggest such.”
I know he did not. But the fire he lit with his words, deep in my belly, refuses to extinguish. And the ghosts draw closer, until I feel the brush of fingers against mine. “My sisters were notcold.”
“I know.” The words are steady. Merrick looks me in the eyes. “I know that, Selene. They did not deserve what happened to them.”
Erena taught him. She was not cold. She was kind, and soft, and gracious. Forgiving of mistakes and slow to scold.
And that thought hurts too. My next words are closer to a whisper. “We still felt.”
A low sound at my side, and I glance down. Riordan is staring up at me, his face stricken. Esme stares at the ground, not meeting my gaze. My fists curl. “When you invaded my home and cut my sisters down, I assure you that Ifeltit.”
“All the way from Terrosa?”
The clipped, almost snide words have me whirling. Callan gets to his feet, his words a sharp whip. “Apologize, Solomon.Now.”
Sol lifts his chin. His eyes sweep over me, judging, burning in their assessment as he finds me lacking. “We have all lost people,faeyte.”
I feel that fire. Burning my chest. My throat. The back of my eyes. “If you have lost, then I am sorry for you. But if this is a competition, Solomon, then I losteveryone. Everybody died, and I was left behind.”
Callan’s attention sharpens on me. “You weren’t there.”
I blink. There is wetness on my cheeks, and I press trembling fingers to them. Callan’s eyes sharpen on my wrist. “Yes, I was.”
His face turns ashen. “That’s impossible. None survived.”
Oh, Gods, it hurts. And the pain is so unbearably cold, yet searing. Too much and yet curiously numb. “Perhaps one day, I will tell you a story.”
But not today. Not now, when it feels as though any movement might rip me into pieces, unable to find myself again.
“Tell me now,” Callan says intently. He crosses around the heart to stand before me. “We will listen, Selene.”
